Finding my way

My First Interview

The next Thursday’s dance class was canceled, so I didn’t go into the city for the meditation. The following Thursday, Guru was kind enough to give me the interview anyway.

I listened eagerly as he told me many things about myself and my past lives. He told me that I am a very old Egyptian soul, which explains the great fascination I always had for Egyptian mummies, hieroglyphics, art and artifacts. He also told me that I had been a devadasi, a Hindu temple dancer, in several incarnations. This was another boost to my acceptance of reincarnation, as I had loved dancing from my earliest childhood.

The third thing Guru told me was that my father had been an herbalist and that I had inherited an interest in herbs. In fact, I had always grown my own salad herbs—dill, basil and chives—in the backyard, as well as parsley, which usually was devoured by a voracious caterpillar resident. Some years earlier, I had a recurring dream in which I went into my backyard to a tiny garden plot, about 2' x 4', overgrown with weeds. I would rummage around and pick something, thinking: "I should really take care of this weed-paradise. What kind of garden would be so tiny? An herb garden!" They say that once you have arrived at the meaning of a repeating dream, you will stop having it. And I never had that dream again.

The fourth thing I learned was that my deity was Ganesh (me? an atheist? I have a deity?). I should sleep with my head to the north and should arrange my meditation so that I face south, because that’s where Ganesh is. Of course I had no idea who Ganesh was. When I discovered that he was the Elephant God I had often seen in Indian pictures, I was reminded of my childhood love of elephants. I lived across the street from Bronx Park, and on my frequent walks to the Bronx Zoo, I would head straight for the elephant house to feed them peanuts and stroke their trunks before going on to be entertained by the monkeys and the sea lions.

When Mom took me to the circus at Madison Square Garden, there was always a sideshow in the basement. This was in the hoary past when they still brought in oddities, such as the tallest man in the world (8 feet, his finger rings sold as napkin rings!), a sword swallower, a bearded lady and elephants. They actually brought a couple of elephants into the sideshow. Of course, there I was, as always, peanuts in hand and blissfully unaware of any animal cruelty issues in circuses.

Of the thousands of songs Guru wrote over the following years, there were many, many bhajans, or musical prayers. Guru formed a group of bhajan singers who still perform these hundreds of devotional songs. He wrote five short Ganesh bhajans, which I quickly adopted and have sung ever since during my morning meditation.

First Lecture at the Aum Centre

Dulal told me that Guru also gave Sunday afternoon lectures which I could attend. I should explain again that I was raised in a household devoid of any religion. All my relatives were also atheists, as were my friends. They didn’t smoke, they didn’t drink, they didn’t steal, but they were from old Russia, and I believe they unquestioningly accepted the doctrine that "religion is the opiate of the masses." I don’t recall ever having heard a word against any religion from anyone in our extended family. Religion simply didn’t exist in our lives, in our experience or in our consciousness. The subject never even came up. Back then I didn’t think that anyone really and truly believed in God or Jesus. I heard those names only occasionally, mostly as an expletive when my uncle hit his thumb with a hammer.

Now I was seated at Guru’s lecture, listening to him talk about God and more God and oh, still more God. I am sure Guru forgave my ignorance, but that was the last Sunday lecture I attended for some time.

Yoga of Westchester

I faithfully continued to attend the Thursday evening meetings, although I still wasn’t quite sure why I was going. As a young adult I had read books about Edgar Cayce, a series of volumes on yoga philosophy by Yogi Ramacharaka, and that wonderful classic, Autobiography of a Yogi, by Paramahansa Yogananda. My fascination with yoga, vegetarianism and spirituality was growing rapidly. However, even though I had been meditating at home for over a year and had picked up a few techniques from books, I was aware that I didn’t quite know what I was doing.

I was introduced to a vegetarian diet when we visited a yoga ashram in Canada. Vegetarianism easily became a part of my life, along with the yogic principle of selfless service. I did my service in the camp garden. The evening meditations at the yoga camp were typically restless and fidgety, with interruptions from coughing. The audience included many people who had just come there for a much-needed relaxing vacation in the country. I had my guitar with me, and the music for one of Guru’s songs. I teamed up with a flutist and together we eagerly learned this lovely song.

One day, the Swami of the ashram invited us to sit on the stage with him and play at the end of the meditation. We played and sang, and Guru’s music brought down so much peace that the coughing and fidgeting vanished. Swami’s normally heavy breathing became inaudible and he continued the meditation far longer than usual.

After this two-week Yoga vacation, my fate was sealed. On our return home, Yoga of Westchester was born.